Tag Archives: teddy

Wednesday was the opening night of designjunction and the curated exhibition for Teddy’s Wish, ‘A child’s dream’.

It was our first official big social outing since Eddie died. Socialising with strangers used to be so effortless. Now we have to wear a mask which is emotionally taxing.

But I was proud to speak to people I had never met before about Teddy’s Wish. The charity will not only help us with the ‘why’ questions, it allows us to parent Eddie. To make him proud and to keep his memory alive.

When we invited designers to take part in the charity project, they were asked to customise a product using the theme ‘a child’s dream’.In today’s post, I would like to pay homage to Tony Chambers, editor-in -chief of Wallpaper magazine, who kindly created a unique interpretation of the Anglepoise lamp for us:

“For a dreamy, ethereal feel, I sprayed the inside of the lampshade a pale sky-blue. Angel Blue was in fact the name on the can. I made a mask of the lamp’s elegantly designed ventilation holes, and spraying through this made a beautiful impression on the lamp’s base – just as Edward made a beautiful, lasting impression during his short stay here.”

Like this:

My emotions are in a bit of a flux at the moment. We launched our first fundraising event for Teddy’s Wish on Wednesday night and the support has been overwhelming. My incredible husband Chris, is going to cycle 100 miles in this year’s Ride London which takes place in August.

On the one hand we have been so touched by the wonderful, heartfelt messages and generous donations from around the world. But on the other hand it reminds us of our tragedy, the loss of our darling baby boy, Eddie.

In some ways, it brings us back to the beginning. It was the first time I had openly told everyone beyond close friends and family via social media. It was the first time I had published anything on social media since that fateful day. And it was the first time for many, to be told that we had lost our baby boy.

Nothing will take away the pain of losing our son but Teddy’s Wish provides us with hope and allows us to do something meaningful in Eddie’s name. One day we will find out why and we hope that one day, no parent will ever have to go through the same tragic loss that we have.

I said to Chris today “I feel like we are existing but not living” Everything I lived for seems so insignificant now.

Life is just about getting through the minutes, the hours and getting through the days. Mornings are the worst. I wake up and for a split millisecond I feel ok before that sinking feeling returns with an almighty thump. You know that feeling when you wake up from a terrible nightmare? That feeling of relief that it was just a dream? Well, my nightmare is real. I am living my nightmare every. single. day.

Chris and I are in the process of setting up a charity called ‘Teddy’s Wish’. We are going to raise funds to help support other grieving families and further research into SIDS, neonatal death and stillbirth. Teddy’s Wish is giving me a reason to get through the day when I question how I’m going to get through it. It’s giving me something to do for Eddie. It’s keeping his memory alive.

My dad said I need to try and hold on to moments of light. Each time I experience even a flicker of light, I should write these down and hopefully, in time, those moments of light will get brighter. Teddy’s Wish and writing this blog are moments of light.

I’ve decided to play tennis again – another moment of light. I think it will be good for me. I used to play every weekend before I fell pregnant and it was part of my identity. Tennis is the only thing I can do at the moment that doesn’t have any association with me being a mum. Except of course when I try and squeeze in to my old tennis gear. But, I still think it will be good for me.

Chris and I went to buy a new tennis racquet this morning. He told me how excited he used to get when he was a young boy buying a new sports kit. He then broke down saying he would never be able to buy Eddie his first cricket bat. That’s not the only thing we’ll never get a chance to do. We’ll never buy his first rugby ball nor his first tennis racquet. We’ll never hear him say his first words and never see him take his first step. I’ll never hear him call me mummy…